


It Could be Worse...

by SBK



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is, Angst lane, Coran knows some stuff, Creepy Galra general perv, Good end?, Hunk wants to hug, Keith tries to understand Lance a little, Lance doesnt die at the end dont worry, Lance isnt okay, Lance struggles a lot, M/M, Not Beta Read, PTSD, Pidge is gener neut, Shiro is awkward space dad, Slight mention of selfharm, Slight mentions of blood/torture, Swearing, brain washing, i like hurting lance, i love fics where lance is hurting, ngl, not at all, still not beta read, this is rlly cute, very very ve r y smart, write more, write more where lance s t r u g g l e s
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:58:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBK/pseuds/SBK
Summary: A self indulgent fic about the wormhole incident, and then some. or Lance should really stop sassing his captors, but that would be no fun would it?





	1. Take Me Home

In fall, leaves scatter and shoot across the ground. Painting everything orange and giving it that…  _ wet leaf  _ smell. Sometimes the air will even taste like a nickel, and sometimes it'll be freezing. Biting at any visible skin, and that's when you know winter is coming. Winter is the coldest, and it gives everything a milky color. White and bright, and  _ blinding.  _ Like staring at the sun too long. Then spring rolls around, the snow melting off the face of the Earth for yet  _ another  _ year, instead being replaced with bright colors. Easter eggs, and tulips that pop from the ground - as if trying to reach for the sky but falling short. 

 

It'd currently be Autumn. Or…close to it. Lance can't really remember what month it is on Earth, since everything is so different here. He knows that he'd never, even in his wildest dreams where he manages to kill one of  _ the strongest  _ bad guys, think up flying a blue lion. And even then, he'd never be able to imagine a wormhole error. One that sends the paladins far out of reach, shooting them across planes and universes they've never before seen. 

 

Lance doesn't just miss Earth, he misses Allura and Coran. He misses their weird food goop, and strange “bonding” exercises, from the gladiator to the castle firing at them. He misses the, mostly, one-sided rivalry he’s declared between himself and Keith. He misses Pidge’s weird tinkering antics and _upgrades._ He misses Hunk, and his childhood charm, and the way he reminds Lance of _family._ He misses Shiro, because Shiro also feels like family - like a father. 

 

But it seems like Lance never really did draw anything but the short stick, because he was alone. On an unknown planet with three suns and four moons, the color of crimson. Lance is though,  _ painfully,  _ alone. Lying on the rough dirt against the ground, the occasional rock digging into his flesh. His palms are slightly scratched up, and his head rings with every slight movement. He had hit it when they were, still being flung through space. 

 

Sometimes, on the rare occasion, he’ll hear Keith or Pidge try and get someone to respond to them. Everyone else has broken off in pairs, according to the audio he gets sometimes. Hunk and Shiro, Pidge and Keith, and then…  _ Lance.  _ By himself. Though luckily, it seems the Galra haven't ever been here - the people were alarmed at first, and then accepted his conditions. They were plant folk, no bigger than weeds. He had to be careful not to squash one. 

 

Lance hasn't ever spoken over the intercom, mainly because it's busted at the moment. Which means, he constantly hears the accusations of him being  _ dead,  _ or in Galra hands. He wants to tell them that isn't true, but he also can’t because the only tools he have are a screwdriver - and mechanics have always been Hunk and Pidge’s thing anyway.

 

Lance is sweaty, and it feels like his body is emitting too much heat at all times, his skin sticking to him like glue. He scraped his leg coming up the mountain, back away from the village. Blue had crashed into the said protrusion in the ground, and it only made sense of Lance to spend minimal amounts of time away from it. In case Allura and Coran beamed in, with their floating castle, and saved Lance. 

 

The point is, his leg hurts, and when he drags his pant leg up he can't help but wince. It's only bleeding a little, but it sure does sting. But at the same time, it feels  _ nice.  _ It reminds him of falling and scraping his skin against wood chips at the park. It reminds him of his mom’s cooking - it reminds him of Earth. It reminds him of gladiator sessions with Keith, Pidge, Shiro, and Hunk. 

 

Without even registering it, he's already scratched at his skin. It leaves ugly, pearly red but it reminds him of home again. Of his pet cat that he had found, and  _ declared  _ it lonely thus making them partners in crime. His… actions only escalated from there. 

 

His skin was littered with little nail indents, how long had it been? He couldn't remember, but Blue has vines sliding over it’s body. And the occasional com sounds like their having fights - some trying to argue that they should  _ find Lance already  _ and some arguing  _ he's fine.  _

 

Lance doesn't know who’s voice is whose anymore. But he does manage to,  _ finally,  _ fix the coms. His arms and legs stinging with every moment, thanks to his self destructive behavior, and for the first time in what feels like an eternity he speaks to his fellow paladins. To his friends that have become… more like  _ family,  _ and even closer to home. 

 

“H-Hello?” Lance croaks, like a dying frog, and he winces at his own voice. It's not like he hasn't had conversation with the villagers, it's just… lately he's been using little to no words. But Lance waits. He keeps waiting for a response from the other side. He speaks to it a lot, actually. Days turn to weeks, and weeks months. 

 

And finally, he gets a response. 

 

“Oh man, Lance. Took ya long enough, where are you?!” Hunk cries, or is about to from the way he sounds. Voice tight like a wounded animal. 

 

Sadly though, Hunk’s minute is Lance’s month, so… He's already been taken by the Galra, which is an unknown fact. Probably having unspeakable things done to him, akin to brainwashing and…  _ arena  _ fights. Just like Shiro. He's being subjected to torture for the Galra’s enjoyment; entertainment. It's like a punch to the gut, especially since no one ever replied to his cry for help. That he was  _ forgotten  _ on that planet, with the leaf villagers and an overabundance of edible nuts. 

 

Lance is, genuinely, unsure of how much time has passed since he's been captured. He knows Blue escaped sometime ago, and he knows this because they come to his paladin. None other than Lance, and they  _ demand  _ answers. Pointing guns at him, but Lance just shrugs. He spits out his replies, with surprising ease. 

 

“Don't know.” 

 

“Good riddance, if you ask me.” 

 

“Are you guys like, furries or something?”

 

“Are you going to have some weird, interstellar sex with my lion?” 

 

“Blue’s at a rebellious stage.” 

 

“It's not just a phase,  _ Galra. _ ” 

 

“Do you guys have any space goop? Maybe futuristic rice and beans? Man do I miss my mom’s cooking.” 

 

“How come it always smells like someone died in here?” 

 

“Hey, can you guys install an air-conditioning system while you're here? It's like  _ super  _ hot.” 

 

“Keith’s gonna kick yer ass.” 

 

“Who else is gonna be that jerk’s rival if not me?” 

 

“Please don't cut my arm off too, we already have one cyborg and I don't want to be called a copycat.”

 

“You're going to get worry lines if you keep scowling, really bad for the health.” 

 

“Man, thanks for not making me fight any arena related battles.” 

 

“Do you guys take turns coming in here every other hour? I can't tell because you all look the same.” 

 

“I  _ still  _ don't know where Blue is.” 

 

“Hey, why did Blue cross the road?” 

 

\-- “Why?” 

 

“Don't fucking ask me, I don't know.” 

 

“Dudeeee, that's a sick gun- don't shoot though.” 

 

And so forth. His replies are usually some sarcastic, meme laced thing. He tries his best to make little to no sense, not even flinching when they raise their fists anymore. The Galra haven't taken any body limbs though, just broken his nose numerous times and called him  _ scum.  _ But aside from gushing blood at all points in time from his face, it really could be worse. He doesn't want it to ever be worse. 

 

It could be worse. 

 

It could be worse. 

 

_ It could be worse.  _

 

That's what he tells himself, over and over like a mantra. He only hopes that Allura has found another paladin - one much better than him. One that's actually, genuinely, worthy. Because the days have melded together and he faintly wonders, nothing more than a thought that saddens him, what season it is on Earth? 

 

He think it might be  _ three  _ falls later. 

 

Or seven. It certainly feels like seven. But he's mostly sure that it's only been three. Because if it was seven, he’d be an old man. He’d feel it in his back, that much is a fact. So yes. 

 

_ It could be worse.  _

 

He repeats it in his head every time the  _ woosh  _ of the door opening reminds him of his fate. He repeats it in his head when they inject things into his skin, trying to pry into his mind the best they can. In which he replies. 

 

“Too bad my brain is too small, you're never gonna find it.” 

 

Too bad they finally did, manage, to worm their way into his headspace. Digging around and figuring out everything about the paladins, but he  _ scoffs.  _

 

“I'm like an outdated PC, none of that information is current. I can't even match the right faces to the right people anymore. All I remember is the name Keith. Do you know what that's like? No? Oh right, you guys hate bonds or whatever - and smell like dying horse.” 

 

He gets a punch to the face for that one, but that isn't anything new. 

 

When the alarms go off, Lance thinks it must be a drill. He doesn't even consider the possibility of someone saving him from the black, dimly lit room. Where he's been tied to a chair since day one, covered in his own dried blood. He's pretty sure he's had a concussion for years now, and he's surprised he's not  _ dead.  _

 

What Lance didn't expect the most though, was Keith cutting through the door with his bayard. Eyes full of fire and hatred - and then they softened. Even further. Then some more. Then fat, shiny tears were gushing from his eyes. His face grossly scrunching up, and Lance stares in shock. 

 

“I found him.” Keith says once, and then repeats quieter, “I found  _ him. _ ” 

 

And Lance smiles as he too, pathetically even, sobs right along with Keith. 

 

“You found me. And I'm hungry.” 

 

“You can have my space goop.” Keith cuts through Lance’s binds, picking him up bridal style and carrying them into the red lion. 

 

“I want everyone's.” Is the last thing Lance says before darkness takes him, and he's genuinely happy because… 

  
_ It could be worse  _ has turned into  _ it can't be better.  _


	2. Expiration Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hunk hugs him. 
> 
> Lance is going to puke. 
> 
> Keith, partially, blames himself.

* * *

 

 

_ “It's me, Lance? You know, Lance and Keith? Neck and neck?” _

_ "Oh yeah, I remember you."  _

* * *

 

 

When Keith had found Lance, tied to a chair. Blood trickling from his nose, mouth, and a cut on his forehead… he didn't know what to say. Lance, and those pretty blue eyes looked so tired… and when Keith had tried his hardest to keep the boy awake, he had to go and drop unconscious. What was Keith supposed to do?! He'd said he had found the boy, and that they were going to bring this kid home and then- and then he just…  _ looks like he died.  _

 

Keith had, personally, freaked the fuck out. From the unconscious, muttered,  _ take me home.  _ To the way he fell onto Keith. Gripping at the red wearing boy like he was going to die, or disappear. 

 

And what if Blue had never even came to their castle? What if Blue had gone somewhere completely unrelated to anything? Lance would have  _ died.  _

 

The last thing Keith would have ever heard from Lance would've been,  _ what's going on?  _ Those are hardly parting words, and even if he had said something clever… would Keith really have been okay with that? They claim to hate each other but… do they really? Have they really? Ever? 

 

So of course Keith is on edge, leg tapping up and down as he stares at the space goop. How long has Lance been in the healing pod? What if something goes wrong? What if he… 

 

_ “No, nu uh I’m helping Shiro.”  _

 

_ “--Like Hell you are.”  _

 

He digs his nails into his palms, but that's no good. He saw the marks on Lance, but Keith doesn't quite have the heart to say anything… what have they done to him? He doesn't know. He doesn't want to know. Did they make him fight in arena battles? Was he tortured from the moment he woke up, stranded on an unfamiliar planet with no outs? 

 

* * *

 

 

It's a whole month before Lance wakes up, stumbling out of the healing pod on shaky legs. No one is there to greet him, probably because it seems to be late. One can tell by the dimmed lights, and the lack of average ruckus that ensues with this bunch. Lance, for a moment when he blinks, sees the cell. The one the Galra had thrown him in when they first took him hostage, the same one where he… 

 

He fought his first, and thankfully,  _ last  _ arena battle. 

 

Even if it was for a fleeting moment, lasting but a millisecond, he could no longer support his weight. Legs giving out underneath him, clear tears pouring from his blue eyes. He was so  _ scared.  _ He was so  _ alone.  _

 

Lance remembers the first punch to the face he’d ever received from the Galra. How it had swollen half his face, caused him to stare with wide eyes. How he’d thought, for even a moment, that maybe he  _ should  _ just tell them where Blue might’ve gone. It doesn't take a genius to figure he’d go back to the castle. But… who would've gotten hurt in that case? 

 

In the arena, Lance had gone up against a multi toothed creature. It was twice his size, with razor blade like nails. It growled and hissed, and Lance had  _ lost.  _ He’d been tossed around, cut open, bitten into. Eventually, they'd gotten bored of his useless attempts at trying to win, and for a second… Lance thought he was going to die. 

 

He doesn't exactly know how long he lies, crumpled up in on himself, but soon enough the lights are brightening. Lance has half a mind to make it seem like he  _ barely  _ stumbled out of the pod. Though, his eyes are still red and swollen, no one seems to call him out on it. And by no one, he means none other than Hunk. Hunk who throws his arms around and Lance and hugs as tight as he can. 

 

For a second, he saw the Galra general. Hugging him, sharp tiger like claws digging into the flesh of his back. 

 

_ If you just tell us, you'll never have to suffer again my boy.  _

 

_ You’d make a great Galra general, don't you think? _

 

_ Imagine all the great you could do.  _

 

_ You know so much about the Paladins.  _

 

_ You’ve already killed someone, you're halfway there.  _

 

_ Lance.  _

 

_ Lance, come on.  _

 

_ You can do it Lance.  _

 

_ You can kill them Lance.  _

 

_ Bring the lions to us.  _

 

_ Lance.  _

 

_ Lance.  _

 

“Lance.” Firm hands on his shoulders snap Lance out of his half daze, and it takes way more energy than it should for him to crack a smile at Hunk. 

 

“Sorry, I just missed you all so much.” 

 

“Want another hug?” 

 

“Nah, I’m good. I think I only want food.” With a half, sort of lousy smile, Lance lets his eyes slide closed. This should be fine. He can work through this. These are his problems… 

 

_ If they found out what you did, they'd hate you…  _

 

“That can be arranged.” Hunk grins, his teeth pearly white. He looks happy, generally happy. Taking Lance’s hand, he drags the boy into the dining center. 

 

It's there where his heart stops, because everyone is there. Keith looks the most surprised at their blue paladin's unexpected arrival, grossly thin and pale. A bruise still lines Lance’s jaw, and it doesn't go completely unnoticed but it isn't necessarily brought up. 

 

Lance doesn't even mention how it was  _ after  _ he got out of the healing pod. 

 

“So, what's for breakfast Allura? Space goop? Dude, I could eat that for days.” 

 

_ I feel sick.  _

 

_ I hate them.  _

 

_ Why are they looking at me like that?  _

 

_ It's their fault for not saving me sooner.  _

 

_ I didn't tell them anything.  _

 

_ They look at me like a traitor.  _

 

_ What do they know?  _

 

_ They know. They know what I've done, don't they? _

 

_ I was stupid to think I could get away with-  _

 

“Lance?” Shiro asks, a hand waving in front of the tan, sunken boy’s face. It takes a moment to register that there’s being a plate of food offered to him, but it takes even longer to realize that the Galra tech before him isn't the general’s. It’s Shiro’s replacement arm, and yet… 

 

“Oh dude I think I'm gonna hurl.” 

 

“Do it somewhere else!” Keith yells, Pidge is already standing up. 

 

“Bathroom! Bathroom!” Their yelling, waving at Lance to get him out of their. 

 

Shiro is recoiling his arm, a grimace on his face as he takes a couple steps back. Who can blame the guy? 

 

“Oh man, you're starting to sound like me.” Hunk groans, turning Lance around and giving him a hard nudge towards the general direction of the bathroom. 

 

_ “Get in your cell, human maggot.” Rough, calloused hands turn Lance around. A whimpy, gross looking bandage brought around his thigh. Where that… thing had bitten into his flesh and had taken a pretty gnarly chuck out of his skin. “Don't just stand there scum.”  _

 

_ One more harsh push, and Lance had been successfully forced into his doom. The space lock door hissing shut behind him, the others in the room looking generally terrified. But who wouldn't? The Galra were nothing but…  _

 

**_F r i e n d s._ **

 

_ No- they were nothing but enemies! Enemies!  _

 

Lance blinks a couple times, remembering that he still had the urge to puke, tossed a thumbs up behind him, and high tailed it. Faster than he ever had before, when Grandma has brought out some nasty shit his bro had cooked. 

>   
>  Lance has more than just PTSD on his hands… 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> looks like this turned into a multichapter, un beta-read mess


	3. The Ache, Keith, and Finally, Home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance forgets. 
> 
> Keith tries. 
> 
> Shiro is just disappointing that he has to sort our relationship issues between his children.

After,  _ possibly,  _ throwing up, all Lance does is lay his head on the table. A groan leaving his slightly chapped lips, what he wouldn't do to brush his teeth. They didn't really…  _ have  _ human resources there so… toothbrushes? Nope. He hasn’t brushed his pearly  _ yellows  _ in what feels to be months, but luckily the healing pod fixed those right up. Back to their shiny white color. He still wants to brush them though, and why he didn't is unknown. Probably because a trip to the bathroom ended up a trip to his room, where he sat there and cried. 

 

Now he has a headache, pulsing and throbbing. He might actually throw up this time, though he's gotten fairly good at hiding his emotions. 

 

Too bad Keith exists, and is very real, because Lance is already being hauled away. No one says anything, but Lance swears he heard someone go,  _ ooooooohhh, you're in t r o u b l e.  _

 

Being hauled away with Keith means one of two things, you're either going to help him, or he's going to help you. This time though, it seems to be for both. An equally beneficial moment, especially since they're sitting in Keith’s room. Foreign, smells nice, and sorta almost feels like home. 

 

“Lance.” Keith gives Lance that  _ look.  _

 

“Keith.” Lance does his best to imitate said  _ look.  _

 

“Lance, you're acting weird.” Keith furrows his eyebrows, hands on his lap. Their clenched, and Lance for a fleeting moment, imagines the Galra’s fist being slammed against his nose, a gross cracking following suit. 

 

“Oh yeah? And we're on Earth.” Lance replies, raising a brow. He's being a little too sassy, but this isn't the kind of conversation he really wants to be having. 

 

“Lance.” Keith looks disappointed, and he sighs. “Let me help you.” 

 

_ “Let me help you.” A fuzzy hand encases Lance’s throat, squeezing ever so gently. Not enough to necessarily  _ choke  _ Lance, but enough so the pressure and strength of big furry here is known.  _

 

_ “I’d rather chug piss.”  _

 

“Help me with what? I'm fine. If I wasn't, I wouldn't  _ be  _ here, would I? So stop being such a mom about it.” Lance knows this is unfair. Knows that he’ll always have these feelings, and that he’s backing out of potentially having  _ help.  _

 

“Lanc-” 

 

“I'd rather chug  _ glass  _ than have you pity me too! You think I don't see it?! You think- You think…” Lance stops mid yell, eyes wide. “Keith?! Keith!” 

 

_ And Keith seems to fade away, dissipating like evaporated water. That's when a fist slams into his face, and he’s been knocked back. The sound of something scraping underneath him, until he's falling flat on his back.  _

 

_ “Human, how long do you intend to just sit there?! Playing dead won't work.” And like the source of every nightmare, the Galra’s ugly face comes into view. Hand brushing back a few strands of hair from Lance’s soft, tan face.  _

 

_ “Now tell me, where did our little friend, Blue, go? This could be so much easier.”  _

 

_ “Suck my dick.”  _

 

_ As if, expected, Lance grins from ear to ear as a fuzzy fist back hands the poor kid. His head turning to the side, and he spits out a tooth. He's still grinning though.  _

 

_ “Is that all you got, tough guy?”  _

 

To say that Lance was weak is an understatement, to say that he was suffering would  _ also  _ be an understatement, and to say that Lance was just  _ peachy  _ would be a flat out lie. Especially when he comes back to, lying in his own bed. His headache persists, much more painful than last time, and to his right he sees Shiro. 

 

Shiro seems zoned off somewhere, looking at the ceiling with a dazed expression. Worry lines seem to be a permanent feature in his hard, strong looking face. Lance finds comfort in it, because it feels like a  _ dad's  _ face. 

 

“Shiro?” Lance sits up, pressing a palm to his aching forehead. He can't find the words, because when Shiro looks at him, there's nothing but disappointment. 

 

_ He resents you.  _

 

“Shiro, where's Keith?” Lance could've sworn he was just being sat on Keith’s bed, Keith giving him that  _ look.  _

 

“You passed out, mid yell. He's worried he's going to upset you more.” Shiro informs, though Lance lets out a gentle sigh. 

 

“I didn't mean to yell at him.” Lance, sort of looks like a pouting kid, mumbles. His arms are crossed, though he finds it difficult to stay awake. His head is pulsing more and more painfully - in fact, his memories feel jumbled. His name? Lance Mc… ? Lance…. Lan? L? …? His date of birth? His fellow paladins? Paladins? The tigers? Blue? 

 

But what name persists through this strange, sudden moment where everything leaves him. Everything but one - no maybe  _ two  _ words. 

 

Keith and home. 

 

“I'm going back to bed.” Lance informs Shiro, once he has his wits about himself again, and he falls to the pillow. Hand pushing against his forehead, massaging the ache away. Or trying. Kind of hard when it's under the skin, and behind your skull. 

 

_ Keith and home.  _

  
For once, his dream is about something nice. 


	4. Black Spot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance remembers. 
> 
> Lance wakes up somewhere new, somewhere old.

When Lance wakes up, tired eyes peeling open, he does not see the ceiling of his room. Instead he sees a very, very distinctive purple. One that causes his heart to drop into his stomach. His neck hurts, a familiar sore feeling he has acquired since taking punches while tied to this specific chair. It's damp, and cold. Very cold. The hairs on the back of his neck stand up straight, and the slight purple around his wrists can hardly be ignored. 

 

His vision is blurred, though luckily is must be late. Usually when he wakes up, it's due to the harshness of the Galra general. He still has no idea what the creature’s name is, he just knows he's in danger whenever he's around. If he'd just… inform them a fake planet, maybe they’d spare him? But what would happen to that planet? 

 

Lance coughs a couple times, vision barely focusing in on a stain. A black thing that's hard to ignore - it's mostly round. It's kind of like a black Earth, and soon enough that becomes Lance’s ground. As long as that dot exists, he does too. He's alive as long as he can see that dot. 

 

Lance must of blocked the memories, but there was way more than just one gladiator fight. Highlighted by the many scars that litter his body. The heavy metallic smell causing his nose to go numb, how he can smell is a wonder. How he's not  _ dead  _ is a MIRACLE.

 

_ It could be worse.  _

 

It really could, it generally could. He could be bleeding out, gushing red all over a cell floor. He could have prongs pulling his tongue out, a knife sawing the damn thing off. They’d probably force him to eat it too! At those thoughts, he can't help but grimace. Awh man, that's just gnarly. 

 

Lance is lonely. 

 

This much is known, when the stain starts to fade, and a fat tear slides down his cheek. Then another. Then more, and then he's sobbing. Grossly making tight, whimpy noises in the back of his throat as he hangs his head. A weak, almost inaudible  _ please help me  _ leaves his lips, shaky. His breath hitches a couple times, and all he can do is  _ finally  _ release the stress built up in his chest. Opening his mouth -- 

Lance  _ fucking  _ screams. He screams once, then twice, then thrice. He screams until Galra are running in there, trying to shut him up. The general already has been awaken though, very known by the thumping of his robotic legs. Fuzzy muzzle coming into view, purple eyes  _ glowing.  _ His hard expression softens, and unknowingly to Lance… 

 

The blue paladin is looking at the Galra general like he's a god. The gushing tears rolling to an almost, complete stop. The general must be touched, because he's marching forward, pulling Lance into a warm hug. It feels…  _ safe.  _ It feels nice. Lance ducks his head into the fur, it's much softer than it looks. Like hugging a fuzzy puppy. 

 

“Home…” Lance muffles into the fur, “home…” He repeats himself. Whimpy blue eyes, slightly dazed looking into purple ones. 

 

“Tell me where home is.” 

 

_ Where is home? Keith? Shiro? Pidge? Allura? Coran? Hunk?  _

 

_ Where is home? The Garrison? Space? His mom? Her cooking?  _

 

_ Where is home? The Galra ship? The chair? The punches he constantly gets?  _

 

_ Where is home?  _

 

“Home…” Lance, for but the tiniest of moments, fails to answer something correctly. “Home is the Galra.” 

 

The general grins, from ear to ear. Yellow teeth exposed, highlighted in a gentle purple glow. Eyes darkened out, nothing but raw malice coming from the monster. Sharp nails digging into Lance’s skin, and yet Lance feels  _ safe.  _

 

“Exactly.” The general growls out, softly against Lance’s skin. “ _ Exactly,  _ now you're getting it. What do people do for their homes?” 

 

“... Help them.” 

 

“Yes! Yes!! You can help me, and your home, by telling me where Blue is.” 

 

_ Keith.  _

 

_ What would Keith do?  _

 

_ Their petty rivalry has bonded them closer - Keith’s love for cute things - Lance’s obnoxious attitude. Complete polar opposites, and yet… Lance he… He cares for Keith. He would never want Keith to be forced into the same, painful torture he's undergone. The nose breaking? A wonder that a bone hasn't been lodged into his skull.  _

 

_ What would… Lance do?  _

 

_ Lance wouldn't give up so easily, Lance wouldn't tell a complete stranger full of hatred the same location Keith is at. Lance would never even think of that as an option, so Lance…  _

 

_ What do you do?  _

 

Lance purses his lips, eyes hyper focusing on the dissipating black stain. It's all he has, it's all he needs. His head hurts, pounds at his blatant rejection. 

 

“Blue is somewhere cool probably, at least he's not here. Here is worse than Hell.” 

 

That earns him a hard  _ kick  _ to the jaw, sending Lance and the chair toppling over. Lance doesn't move, the kick hard enough to knock consciousness out of his body. It's nice though, a moment of absolute peace. 

 

“We’re the ones that were there for him in his darkest moments. Inject the serum, he'll succumb soon.” 

 

A needle pierces Lance’s forehead, pressing past the skull even, and shooting purple liquid. Adding to an already, almost completely flooded, head of it. It oozes out of his eyes some, and ears too. With a rag, the Galra knights take extra care to wipe it away. Trying their best to make its existence completely unknown to Lance. 

 

“He’ll learn what it means to be Galra.” 

 

The general feels his lips peel back, revealing his teeth once more. His hands clenched in fists, the mind juice is slowly pushing them closer and closer to victory. 

 

“Get him off the floor, and get some rest. We have a long day tomorrow.” 

 

With quick paced steps, the general leaves the room. The said knights lifting Lance upright with loud, tired grunts. One of them sends a pitying looks at Lance, but there's nothing she can do anyway. She's just a knight. With a couple nods, they ditch their paladin. 

  
Knocked out, and completely oblivious to what's happening to his own  _ body.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 


	5. That's NOT me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> -Spoiler Alert- 
> 
> Lance is definitely, super, one hundred percent, NOT okay. 
> 
> Keith investigates. 
> 
> Shiro deals with relationship drama again.

* * *

 

When Keith wakes up, there's something about the castle. The  _ vibe.  _ It feels like someone is choking him, and with quick steps, he finds himself standing in front of Lance’s room. He raises a fist, though it doesn't quite make contact with the solid material of the door. Instead, his palm opens, and he gently presses it against the door, his forehead doing the same. 

 

_ What goes on in your head, Lance?  _

 

“Keith?” A voice snaps Keith right out of his daze, the poor guy jumping almost a whole foot in the air. A hand pressing to his chest, eyes sliding shut for but a slight moment. 

 

“Shiro,  _ holy shit.  _ Don't do that, I almost pissed myself.” Keith has to take a moment to catch his breath, a raspy chuckle leaving him. 

 

“Language.” Shiro scolds, a disappointed look on his face. Shiro always has been a big baby about swearing, one time crying when Pidge yelled,  _ don't be a little bitch  _ one time - when they were playing Mario Kart. Lance, for once in his life, played modest and said he sucked at the game but… he beat every single person. Yet the question arises, why can't he drive a damn spaceship?! 

 

“Sorry.” Keith mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck. He's slightly embarrassed, being caught while staring at a door all sentimental and heartfelt. 

 

“You wanna see him?” Shiro ticks his tongue, “I was just about to head back in there. We’re all worried about him, and I don't feel comfortable leaving him alone just yet…” 

 

“I just… N- No. I'm fine.” Keith shrugs his shoulders upward, casting a glance at a speck of dirt. It's become more interesting at random, but Shiro doesn't seem to mind. 

 

“He's dead to the world, I don't think he'd notice if you were in there.” Shiro  _ winks,  _ humming a little. “Besides, it gets the point across that someone cares for him.” Shiro starts heading toward the door, about to press the button that sends it open with a hiss. “Offers still on the table…” 

 

Shiro gives Keith that  _ look.  _ That fatherly,  _ I-know-all  _ kinda look, and Keith caves. A shy smile curling on his lips, and he shrugs. 

 

“Fine, I guess it won't _kill_ me.” 

 

Shiro smiles, pushing the button. The door opens, and Keith marches forward.  _ Be there for Lance, be there for Lance, be there for Lance  _ has become a mantra in his head. A prayer - a good luck charm. Though Shiro wasn't lying, Lance is dead to the world. Asleep, the occasional snore leaving the boy.

 

_ Lance looks nice.  _

 

_ Lance looks innocent.  _

 

_ Lance looks cute.  _

 

Well, he  _ did,  _ until Lance started thrashing about. Grabbing at sheets, and then he bolts up with an ear bleeding scream… only to flop back, still dead to the world. Keith had…  _ almost  _ screamed himself, hand on his chest for the second time that night. His leg suspended. 

 

“Think we should wake him?” Keith mumbles, eyes wide like plates. Tonight must be jumpscare-Keith-at-all-constants. 

 

“...Maybe. Let’s wait.” Keith nods, finally stepping away from the door. He finds a comfortable spot on the floor, knees tucked into his chest, brownish red eyes trained on the sleeping boy. Shiro is seated at a chair, hands tucked into his pockets, head tilted back as he stares at the ceiling. 

 

“What do you think he's dreaming about?” 

 

“Good question.” Shiro sighs, “I wish I knew.” 

 

“I wish I could help him…” Keith admits, almost inaudible and silent in the dead of night. The only other sound is Lance’s slight snoring - he's actually a quiet dreamer. 

 

“Me too, Keith, me too.” 

 

“It's just so hard.” Keith throws his hands into his hair, tugging at the occasional handful. “I have no idea what he's hiding - what he isn't! If he's okay, if he's struggling?! He just never  _ tells us  _ anything! I get so frustrated I want to cry!” 

 

“Then go ahead, cry.” Shiro, grins, turning to look at Keith. Keith who looks surprised, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. His hands slowly fall from his hair, and then a tear or two from his face. Keith’s an ugly crier, proven by the way his face scrunches up. Bottom lips quivering slightly. 

 

“I… I miss  _ our  _ Lance. I miss…  _ my  _ Lance.” Keith wipes at one eye, and then the other, but it's for naught. He's full on bawling - sobbing like a little baby. Shiro gets up, abandoning the chair in favor of hugging the floored kid. Wrapping his muscley arms around Keith, letting the other sob all of his emotions out. 

  
  


* * *

 

 

When Lance opens his eyes, it’s like he’s suspended above his body, floating in a completely different dimension. Though, at the same time he  _ feels  _ himself, he's just not necessarily… attached. It's strange, very hard to explain - even to himself. Everything feels icy cold, and he feels distant. Though somewhere, he can hear crying and gentle  _ shhh’s _ . 

 

To Lance’s dismay, his body is moving on its own. Sitting up, hands gripping the blanket so tight its knuckles are flushing a pearly white color. 

 

That's not what bothers him though. 

 

It’s his eyes, they're a purple-y, lavender color. Dull - like the Galra ship’s, and they feel hard. Cold - like a stone painted and pushed into someone's skull, and then called an eyeball. 

 

His body turns, turns its head wickedly slow, a sly little grin on its lips. Keith and Shiro seem far too distracted to look up, instead focused on one another more than the current cause for alarm. 

 

“Nu-uh, none of this bullshit. You are  _ not  _ hurting them.” Lance shakes his head once, then twice. “We will  _ seriously  _ have an issue if you keep looking at them like that.” Lance gives his body the same look Keith gives him when he's being  _ stupid,  _ arms crossing defensively over his chest. 

 

“You think you can stop me?” His body says, very much without permission, mouth opening in an all too wide grin. “I can kill them, I can  _ take everything from you, Lance.  _ Wouldn't that be favorable? After all, you belong to the Galra now. You should have figured that out long ago and worked to serve your  _ home. _ ” 

 

“I'll stop you right there, because the  _ Galra  _ are not my home, and you can go right ahead and  _ suck one,  _ because you're not me and I'm not you.” Lance wags his finger, going to shove  _ himself  _ back down, though he instead phases through his own body. 

 

His body gives him a pity filled look. 

 

“You're not in control. Where's your little black stain now?” His body is flinging the sheets off, and it's a wonder that Shiro and Keith haven't noticed him talking to himself. How embarrassing, and for a minute Lance wants to face palm. But right now is actually rather dire… 

 

If they get hurt because of him… 

 

“Hey come on, let's not do this bro. That's not cool, ya dig?” Lance  _ floats  _ on over, trying to grab at his own shoulders. It doesn't work. “Hey now, that's not very punk rock of you.” 

 

“Oh come on,  _ Laaannnccceee~  _ we both know you've killed someone before. Remember?” 

 

Lance shakes his head, a bunch, before saying  _ nope, nada mi amigo. _

 

Lance laughs, or rather his body does, and only then does Shiro and Keith notice the advancing paladin. The advancing paladin with purple eyes and a wide grin that would put the Joker to shame. 

 

“Lance…?” Keith asks, worry laced in his eyes. His face is puffy and red - he's been crying. Sobbing actually, and Lance feels a pang of sadness in his chest. He wants to reach out, he wants to pull Keith in a hug. He wants to tell the red paladin that he's  _ fine.  _ That everything will work out one way or another. 

 

_ Where's your black little stain now?  _

 

Lance feels his eyes grow wide as his own hand, his very  _ own limb,  _ reaches out and grabs the lamp. The one that sits on his nightstand. He's grinning like a crazed fool, laughing even. All pitchy and gaspy. 

 

“I've long waited for this moment,  _ paladins of Voltron. _ ” Lance’s body spits the words out, rolls them off his tongue all crooked. Full of malice, dripping with the essence of hatred. Luckily, Shiro is here, because he guides Keith behind him..

 

“Lance? Is that you?” Shiro reaches out, with his good arm, and the lamp goes swinging.

 

_ Not his good arm, please, God stop!!!  _

 

“STOP!” 

 

Lance yells, shrieks like a little girl. And it must’ve been enough because the lamp clatters to the floor and he's stumbling backwards, collapsing onto his rear. His head rings, worse than ever. 

 

His vision swims with black spots, and eventually, all he hears is a half shouted  _ Lance.  _

 

The darkness is… soothing and calm. 


	6. Precious Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance does something unspeakable. 
> 
> Keith is a good pillar figure. 
> 
> Hunk is going to /help./ 
> 
> And Shiro? Well he, for lack of better phrasing skills, is fucking pissed. Seething, and now gentle soundtrack is going to calm his fatherly rage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> G O R E IN BOLD 
> 
> G O R E IN BOLD
> 
> In case you don't read this tho, I have a warning beforehand. It made me nauseous to write, so viewer discretion advised. 
> 
> (Time to change the tags.)

* * *

 

 

After spending such an extensive period with the Galra, Lance had grown to be rather languorous. Mentally  _ and  _ physically, his whole being rendered into moldable mush. Like clay that had been microwaved for an hour too long, and the Galra spent no time dicking off. They used expertise, wits, and general human weakness to get him to do something so  _ low,  _ so  _ pathetic  _ that Lance has a hard time even thinking about it. 

 

But some thoughts can't be hidden forever, and like the rain that falls from grey clouds, it was bound to happen. The thought bringing more than just images, but the  _ sensations  _ as well. From the nidorous stench that curled around the particular area of the ship, to the very audible sobbing. One that makes Lance feel ready to puke. 

 

The sobbing wasn't what made him feel that way, it was the occasional scream that would rip from the sources throat. Like they were being  _ slaughtered  _ before they’d even been touched, even been  _ looked  _ at. From the distance, Lance knew he still had a few more to walk before arriving at his destination. Calloused hands giving him the occasional, rough shove. Sometimes tripping over his own feet. 

 

**(Polite Gore warning, please skip everything bolded if you have weak stomachs, thank you!!**

**The gore is roughly… twenty paragraphs long? And will be summarized in the notes.)**

 

**That’s when the door opened, a smell so indescribable that Lance felt** **_light headed._ ** **His stomach turning, and turning. Like something was doing backflips in his intestines - that was hardly the worst. There was someone else in that dingy, smelly room. Suspended by large, rusted-over chains. Cuffs keeping the victim's wrists above their head. Their legs suffering the same fate, each limb being held outwards - spread. Like tree branches.**

 

**“Go on.” The rough voice of the Galra general whispered in his ear, fur covered paw pushing him forth. Hard enough that Lance had fallen onto his hands and knees, much to his own dismay. A thick, red, and sticky substance had** **_clung_ ** **to him. Slipping into his skin cells, staining him. His knees suffering the same fate - as well as his shoes.**

 

**The door smashed closed behind him, slamming hard enough that the room groaned and creaked in protest. There was no light, just the sound of something buzzing, possibly flies, and the occasional whimper ahead of Lance. What the blue paladin had gathered was that the person suspended in the air was a child, merely from their tiny body and the innocent look in their eyes. Their gender? Unspecified, completely unknown. Their species? Unknown as well. They had blue, scaly skin though, and fins where normal human ears would lie.**

 

**“He- Hello…?” Lance whispered, it seemed to echo in the room. The smell was metallic, very hard to even think. Lance was going to vomit, actually, and before he even had a chance to listen for a reply, throw up was shoving past his lips. Splattering against what was, previously, known as blood. Two different bodily substances mingling, and admittedly, did things to Lance’s brain.**

 

**_Would the Galra do this to him?_ **

 

**The child didn't reply, and Lance stumbled to his feet. He pushed forward, lifting a hand to cover his mouth before really processing that it was** **_drenched_ ** **in blood. It’d already pressed against his face, and he soon realized that blood - someone else's - was soaking into the skin. The fibers of his being, into his plush lips he…**

 

**Lance tried to erase the thought, peeling his hand away.**

 

**He kept marching forth, pushing through thick blood that seemed to get deeper and deeper the further he went. He was traveling on a slope though, almost like he was entering a real live** **_blood bath._ **

 

**That was when Lance ran into something, something hard and whining - something that caused the chains to rattle.**

 

**Lance ran into the child.**

 

**“Are - Are you hurt?” Lance barely audibly asks, words having a special heaviness about them. The child simply started screaming, sobbing.** **_Begging_ ** **even, every syllable being pronounced with haste, not even a breath in between words.**

 

**“Hey- Hey! I won't hurt you, don't cry. We’ll make it through this together.” Lance promised, his hand pressing against the child’s cheek, a smile on his face. Though the kid couldn't see it, the sentiment was the same.**

 

**Until a certain, very familiar voice, came over what sounded like coms.**

 

**“Lance McClain, a special set of rules have been placed. Once you enter this room, it is kill or be killed. That child does not need to eat or drink, but you do. The child cannot touch you, but you can touch it. Those are the advantages and disadvantages. Though, one more for you Lance. There’s a sword, an axe, and a baseball bat to your left. I think that makes this situation much more non negotiable, don't you agree?” The com dies out with static feedback, the kid thrashing pathetically. The chains rattle - clanking loudly as the kid starts screaming again.**

 

**Lance steps back once, then twice. They weren't friends now, especially since Lance had such…** **_power._ ** **He could kill this being, only for the want of food and drink. This was unfair, this was** **_wrong._ ** **This had to be illegal - it had to be! There is no way this is…** **_allowed._ ** **Don't these people have laws? Don't the Galra understand the- the large-scale impact this has?! Lance is not a murderer! By no means!**

 

**Well…**

 

**A day passes. Then two. Then three. Lance feels he's going insane, with only the screams and the ache in his stomach to accompany him. The blood on his skin has dried, and he feels** **_sick._ ** **The smell is putrid, and only worsening.**

 

**Four days pass. Lance feels weak. Feels tired - feels pathetic, everso useless. In that moment, in that moment he’d picked up the rusty axe. Examined it thoroughly, then dropped it. Dragging it in the blood, against the ground. A scratching noise following. The kid could no longer scream, having ran their throat dry, but a tiny, weak little,** **_please no_ ** **had left their mouth.**

 

**Lance hoisted the axe up, and then smashed it into the child’s side. A scream having pierced the air, thick with pain. The screaming only getting worse as Lance pushed. Pushing the axe in** **_further, deeper_ ** **with a** **_crunch._ ** **He yanked the axe out when it seemed it would go no farther, a beautiful crimson color having soaked their skin.**

 

**One of his eyes had a special purple glow to it as he hoisted the axe up again, readying it for smack** **_two._ ** **He slammed it into them. He slammed it into them over and over and over - even after the screaming had stopped. He hacked the kid to bits - to pieces.**

 

**And then he had puked, vomit pushing out of his mouth, and only then had he come to his senses. He'd just…** **_slaughtered_ ** **a child that couldn't even fight** **_back._ **

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  


Lance shoots out of bed with a shriek, grabbing at the air, thrashing. He feels hands wrap around him, trying to keep him pressed to the bed.  _ It's the Galra  _ his mind screams,  _ they're going to make you kill another and another and another.  _ This results in Lance thrashing  _ harder,  _ begging with his whole being like the kid had.  _ Please no more, please, I can’t, I won't, I'd rather  _ starve  _ than kill another kid.  _ He was so helpless! 

 

But there's no harsh strikes to the face, or claws digging into babysoft skin, instead there's arms wrapping around Lance. Pulling him into a warm a hug, and it's Keith. Lance knows by the smell, and he relaxes instantly. Body slouching into the familiarity, sobs wracking his body as he clings to Keith. Begging him not to go anywhere, begging him not to mention this to the others. 

 

But the others are in the room, and they heard and  _ saw  _ it all. They heard him beg not to  _ kill  _ another  _ kid.  _ Not to kill at all, and this of course… in turn, raises plenty of questions. Specifically,  _ how should we destroy the Galra?  _

 

Keith runs his hands up and down Lance’s back, soothing him. The occasional  _ shh  _ leaving his lips, fingers weaving through his hair. 

 

“It's okay, you're alright. You're going to be fine.” Keith whispers, pressing gentle kisses against Lance’s neck, and that seems to the trick. The latino, blue paladin calming down. The sick feeling in his stomach persists, but not as bad as before. 

 

He can actually breathe now, and with a whispery voice he barely manages to say  _ thank you. _

 

The others don't bring it up, and Lance doesn't mention it. But now that Shiro understands the severity of what the Galra have exactly done to Lance, Shiro can't help but be engrossed in  _ rage.  _ His fist slamming against the wall when no one is around. 

 

Or almost no one. 

 

Hunk happens to turn the corner at the wrong moment. 

 

“Everything okay, Shiro?” Hunk asks, innocence still in those eyes. 

 

“Absolutely not, we have some aliens to beat.” Shiro informs Hunk, and it takes all of Hunk to not almost cry. Instead, Hunk’s expression hardens. 

  
“I agree.”  __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A summary for those confused: 
> 
> Lance had to kill someone lest he starve to death.


	7. Nice Things Don't Last

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance was a fool to think they'd accept him. 
> 
> Lance was a fool to think they'd be safe with him.

The next morning, when Lance finally wakes up, eyes still puffy and red - the whole team of Voltron is standing there. Waiting, and Lance just raises a brow. When they do this to him though, it usually implies that they're all going to have a very life altering talk - no buts allowed. 

 

Lance believes his stomach has just dropped into his ass, especially if that facial expression he's wearing says anything. This wouldn't be so bad, but he  _ did  _ try to take off a teammate’s arm with a  _ lamp.  _ A  _ lamp  _ of all things, whilst talking to himself about the Galra being home or  _ something.  _ On top of all that, Lance keeps waking up screaming - and also hardly eats. In fact, the most he's eaten so far has been maybe, three thing? 

 

Shiro is doing the arms crossed thing, Pidge has that…  _ expression  _ on their face when they're pissed, Keith has that  _ look,  _ Hunk has his fists clenched at his sides, bottom lip stuck out like he's about to cry. Allura has a saddened expression on her face, hands on her hips, Coran just standing awkwardly behind her. 

 

Lance? 

 

Well he's sitting up on his bed, strands of hair poking up from his head, wearing the expression of a five year old in trouble. 

 

“So, are we going to talk about how much you guys wanna murder me right now or…? Look, I know I tried to take Shiro’s good arm off with a lamp, and that I talk to myself a lot lately, and sometimes my eyes glow purple, and sometimes I say I'm going to throw up and actually don't, and sometimes I give you guys weird or angry looks or sometimes I scratch my arms to death or pull away really fast when you reach for me and can't stand the sight of-”

 

“Lance, breathe.” Keith says, and it's a quick way to cut Lance off and shut the poor guy the fuck up. “We're not going to beg or pry too bad, but we do deserve to know somethings. No secrets between paladin's, right? So tell us what happened; at least a little.” 

 

Lance sucks in a breath, dipping his head down to glare at his tanned knuckles. The blankets punched up around him, and perhaps he's ready to cry but he's gotten genuinely better at holding all of that in. After all, he really has no excuse to sob like a newborn, what happened to him? Nothing compared to what they've all probably gone through due to his lack of explaining. They deserve to know, more than anyone else. And yet… he just can't tell them the truth. 

 

“I miss home.” Lance starts, and it isn't a lie. He really does  _ miss home,  _ not the Galra ships, not the castle, he misses Earth. With it's wide oceans, it's academic structures, his crowded house and his mom’s cooking. He misses snow, and snowball fights. He misses when things were simple, and yet now… he may just never get that back. Especially with how he has almost no control over himself or the things he does and- 

 

“UuuuauAAugGhh…” He drags a hand down his face, tilting his head back. “Why is this so hard?! I'm just so scared to say  _ anything,  _ because then it'll mean it ACTUALLY happened, and it wasn't just a figment of my imagination - and I'm really bad at talking about things.” Lance huffs, eyes hardening as he snaps back to attention. 

 

“They made me eat  _ purple  _ goop.” Lance shudders, hands gripping at his arms. “It tasted so…  _ weird  _ as opposed to the green goop, and in fact I think I told them they were trying to feed me an over seasoned jelly.” 

 

“Lance-” Hunk starts, though the blue paladin raises a hand to silence him. 

 

“Alright, alright. I just wanted to start off with some humor.”  _ Because none of this is actually funny.  _ He doesn't say that though, opting to crack his widest smile. 

 

“Where to start? Okay so, we'll go with the more obvious part. They had me fight in arena battles - not just one. A few.” Lance keeps his eyes trained on the corner of the bed, ignoring the wide eyed look Shiro gives him, hand clutching his robotic arm. “A little more than a few. It's all hazy, like the memories had been suppressed or something.” 

 

Lance draws his shoulders up in a lazy shrug, but that's really all there is to that part. 

 

“But then I guess they realized they couldn't milk anything from me that way. They stuck me in a dark room for a while, broke my nose a bunch - I'm still surprised a bone didn't shoot back and hit my brain and cause me actual  _ death. _ That woulda been terrible, but maybe I should've died in that hellhole.” 

 

“Lance-” Keith, Shiro, and Pidge all start at once, and Allura just feels her eyes widen at the confession from the supposed “fine” paladin. 

 

“No, no. You can say that when I'm done. There's more to the story than just  _ I should've. _ I really should have just told them all that I knew - if I'd done that, they'd have disposed of me. What I've done there is unforgivable, but I'm not going to get into that yet. Let's start with the daily shots. Sometimes if I fought I'd pass out, and wake up a little later feeling the same. The shots I got? I don't know what they did - still don't. But the more they gave me, the more it felt like my brain was turning into mush.” Lance pressed a hand to his forehead, which currently pulsed. “I still have headaches frequently, and sometimes purple leaks from various parts of my body. No not my penis, stop laughing.” Lance cringes as Pidge lets out a snort, much to Shiro’s dismay. 

 

“Anyway, after a lot of those shots, a lot of purple goop, and a lot of burly furry fists, they hoisted me up like a sack of potatoes, threw me into an even darker room. Here's the catch, it was filled with blood. I hacked someone to death in there.” Lance felt something hot slide down his face, a clear tear dropping onto the sheets. “I kept hitting them - over, and over, and over, even after they were dead. I was just so hungry, I…” Lance pushed his hands up into his ears, unable to bring himself to look up at his teammates. Up at his friends; his family. 

 

“I killed someone to save my own behind, and I wish I could've just died there. Could have just gotten…. sl.. slaughtered - but… but they made me- I at some point said the- the Galra was my  _ home.  _ I…” He sucked in a breath, coughing and choking on his breathing, tight noises leaving his throat. Audible sobs clambering out of him - he sounded ever so hurt. 

 

“You're… you're probably thinking, “how do you sleep at night, you crazy monster?! Go back to the Galra! Go away! You're not a paladin!” You're right! God you're right… I…” He drags his hands down his face, digging his palms into his eyes. 

 

“I should… I should just go back to the Galra! You'll never accept me- I'll never accept me! I killed someone! I… I'm really… really the worst! I deserve to just… die! Why did you even save me?!” Lance’s hands drop from his face, only as he's being engulfed into a hug. A hug of six, seven including himself. He doesn't know what to do, so many arms, so many sobbing people - and Lance remembers what it's like to come home. 

 

And Lance’s face scrunches up, letting out more dying cat noises. 

 

_ But nice things can't last forever, can they?  _

 

And before he can stop himself, his mouth is curling into a grin. A single distinctive, glowing color coming from his eyes. A very lavendery, purple. Highlighting various parts of his tan skin, a special hue. 

  
_ No, they really can't.  _

**Author's Note:**

> ✨


End file.
